


The Ghost on the Shore

by theplatinthehat



Series: a perfect cadence, dearheart [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, all love stories are ghost stories, and we're going to fall a little bit in love, as a treat, as ships pass in the night, during drowning season, in the sight of the lighthouse, we're gonna dance on the shore of the lake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27178222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theplatinthehat/pseuds/theplatinthehat
Summary: Every eye on the coast ever more/Will remember the sight of the ghost on the shore
Relationships: Original Female Character & Original Male Character
Series: a perfect cadence, dearheart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955737
Kudos: 3





	The Ghost on the Shore

**Author's Note:**

> A short story inspired by the song 'The Ghost on the Shore' by Lord Huron. It's a very beautiful, haunting track and I highly recommend listening if you get a chance. The lyrics in the summary come from this song.
> 
> I also really dig their track 'Frozen Pines' - maybe one dayI'll write something for that too.

_Why would I want to dance with someone like you?_

Her vicious words, and the cruel laughter of her friends echo around the inside of Dylan’s head as he stumbles out of the hall and into the cold, dark night. The wind bites at his face, whipping away the tears that have begun to fall unbidden down his cheeks. He can still taste the alcohol on his lips, its warmth on his tongue – the liquid courage that has led to this burning shame.

All he had wanted to do was dance. Was that something so repulsive?

He lets his feet lead him away from the Midsummer Ball and through the blackened streets, too upset to care where he is going. Tarmac turns to grass, grass turns to sand and all of a sudden, Dylan finds himself standing on the lakeshore. The waves lap at his feet, easier to hear than see whilst his eyes are still unused to the gloom. On the water he can see the lights of huge freighters passing in the night – taking their cargo to places he has never been.

Rage bubbles up inside him, sadness too.

Why can’t he be normal?

Why can’t the others just accept him for who he is?

For a horrible, sickening moment, he imagines himself stepping into the cold water of the lake. He’d fill his pockets with stones from the shore, wade in and surrender himself to the waiting embrace of the deep, dark waters.

Dylan shakes his head with a shuddering breath.

He doesn’t want that. He’d hurt too many people doing that.

In the end, he settles for hurling the largest rock he can hold as far into the lake as he can – letting out a loud cry as he does do. It lands with a loud splash, tossing up foam and spreading ripples that are soon swallowed up by the waves.

“What’s wrong?” a voice asks.

Dylan whips around to find a girl in a white dress, sitting on a rock. His eyes have had a chance to grow used to the dark, and he can see that her skin is equally pale and her blonde hair is bedraggled and tangled, as though it’s recently gotten wet.

“Have you been swimming?” he asks, ignoring her question.

The girl chuckles. “Don’t be silly, it’s drowning season. Why? Are you thinking of risking it?”

Dylan shakes his head.

“Good,” she replies. “The lake doesn’t need anyone else.”

Dylan doesn’t say anything.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Why?” he snaps. “So, you can make fun of me?”

The girl widens her eyes at his aggressive retort. “Why would I make fun of you?” her brow crinkling in a confused frown.

Dylan gestures to her dress and his own princely costume. “I presume you’ve come from the Midsummer Ball. You must have seen what happened.”

She shakes her head. “I wasn’t at any Ball.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I’m always here.”

Dylan doubts that, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Are you looking for something?”

“No,” he replies. “Should I be?”

The girl shrugs, the wind playing with her hair. “It’s Midsummer Eve. Many come here seeking solace.”

Dylan looks out over the bleak landscape of the shoreline, broken only by the bright beam of the local lighthouse. “Solace in what?”

“They think that the Ghost of the Shore will guide them to inner peace.”

He lets out a hollow laugh, recalling the tales his grandmother told him – the malevolent water spirit that haunts these shores, seeking revenge for their violent death. “You believe in ghosts?”

She shrugs and smiles. “There are stranger things by heaven dreamed.”

“Err, alright…” Dylan says with a frown. “That was a bit weird.”

This prompts a round of laughter from the girl. She climbs down from the rock and stands toe-to-toe with Dylan in the sand.

“I think that you are looking for something,” she says, fixing him with a daring stare. Drops of lake-water glisten on her face, thrown there by the waves. “What do you want?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I want to help.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m feeling nice.”

Dylan doesn’t say anything. The girl sighs.

“What happened?”

All of a sudden, Dylan finds himself telling this stranger everything. His problems at school. His complete and utter loneliness. His parents who barely have enough time for themselves, let alone their son.

“And I came to the Midsummer Ball tonight. I didn’t want much – all I wanted to do was dance with someone. But everyone said no. And don’t get me wrong, they have that right, but the rejection still hurts.”

The girl, who up until now has been listening intently, clasps her hands together and sighs dreamily. “Oh, a dance! I haven’t been to a dance in _years._ Let me see if I can remember the steps.

She strikes up a pose and does a little dance in the sand. The sight of her dancing brings a huge smile to Dylan’s face, and he gives her a round of applause as she finishes her performance with a curtsey.

“Ah! There’s a smile,” she grins triumphantly. “Didn’t that feel nice?”

“It did.”

“Do you want to smile again?”

“Yes,” he says, walking over to her. “But I would also enjoy the privilege of dancing with a beautiful girl before the night it through. Would you do me the honour, my lady?”

Dylan offers her his hand. She giggles, a slight blush rising in her pale cheeks, and places her hand in his. “I would be delighted, my lord.”

The pair of them strike up a gentle waltz, the only music is the repetitive running of the waves. They weave and spin around one another in the light of the sentinel on the shore. Dylan fancies that the two of them must look like ancient ghosts, dancing together just out of reach of the water. He says as much to the girl, who laughs and laughs and laughs.

“Another tale for the sailors to tell.”

They dance through the night, gradually slowing to an easy sway in each other’s arms.

“I’m going to leave here one day,” Dylan says suddenly.

“Oh?” the girl asks. “Where will you go?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere. _Anywhere._ A place much better than this.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Would you come with me?”

The girl stops dead. The dance is over.

“That’s very sweet of you,” she says, “but I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Whyever not?”

She sighs and breaks away. She stands at the water’s edge, staring to the horizon. The night is ending and the dawn is approaching fast.

“I was born to the lake,” she says cryptically, “and the lake is very jealous. She won’t let me leave.”

“I don’t understand.”

She turns to Dylan with a sad smile. “One day you might.”

The morning dusts pink in the sky. Dylan bows to the girl.

“Thank you,” he says, “for dancing with me.”

She curtsies in return. “You’re very welcome. It was certainly a more interesting night than most.”

A gull keens long and loud, ushering in the sunrise. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Not at all.”

“What is your name?”

The girl smiles, clearly pleasantly surprised by his question. “My name is Evangeline.”

“That’s a beautiful name. For a beautiful girl.”

Evangeline smiles softly.

“Thank you,” she breathes. “No-one’s ever said that to me before.”

The planet races towards daybreak. The dawn is rising over the far side of the lake. Dylan ought to head home. But he can’t – not yet.

“Who are you?” Dylan asks.

Evangeline laughs. “I’m whoever you want me to be,” she replies. “A pretty girl to dance through the night with.”

He turns to walk away, but looks back over his shoulder to memorise her silhouette against the rising sun. But Evangeline has already gone, her laugh still echoing around the empty beach.


End file.
